


Men get lost sometimes as years unfurl

by Olivia



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, underage (both 15) kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 09:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2223186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olivia/pseuds/Olivia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve moves in with Sam, and they start looking for Bucky.  Sam thinks that it's easier to risk your life than it is to risk your heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Men get lost sometimes as years unfurl

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Don Henley's New York Minute
> 
> All of the art is by the amazing potofsoup, who also went above and beyond with cheerleader and beta duties, to my eternal gratitude.

“When do we start?”

“We just did.”

* * *

Sam drove them back to Steve's apartment. The file Natasha had given him rested heavily on Steve's lap. He hoped it held the answers he was looking for, and was afraid of the answers it would give him to the questions he didn't want to ask. All he could think about was that for the 70 years that he had been frozen under the thick Arctic ice, Bucky had been out there. Alone, experimented on, mutilated. It was his fault, if he had gotten there sooner, if he had reached just a little bit further, if he had gone back to find him...

Lost in his thoughts, Steve didn't realize where they were until Sam parked the car at the end of the block and shut off the engine. Steve sat for a few minutes in the quiet, listening to the tings of the cooling engine and watching the fluttering yellow police tape that outlined his building. The sun was just starting to set, casting long thick shadows across the eerily still street, the calm after the storm instead of before. Dark, empty windows stared down at him accusingly. His entire building had been emptied but there was there was hardly any sign of which apartment had been the target.

Bucky always had been pretty good with a rifle.

He had gotten used to coming home to find some of his neighbors gossiping on the steps while they watched their kids playing on the sidewalk. He had stopped and chatted when he could. He had always wondered if he was part of that gossip, if they had figured out who he really was. No one had ever said anything, not Mrs. Hudson when Steve had helped her change a light bulb she couldn't reach; Mrs. Hudson liked to tell him what the neighborhood had been like when she was growing up. And not Mr. Brown when Steve had helped him carry in groceries; Mr. Brown liked to complain about the kids these days and their loud music and their pants that didn't ft right.

He hoped his neighbors were all right. Maybe he could ask someone to follow up, make sure they had everything they needed. He had always assumed SHIELD would take care of those kinds of things, but Sam would probably know someone who could help.

Steve glanced at Sam, who waited patiently in the driver's seat, fingers drumming idly on the steering wheel. He didn't like involving Sam in this, not at all, but he had to respect Sam's choice. He remembered how Peggy had lectured him about respecting Bucky's choice. Sam's decision to follow him was no different. 

“Whenever you're ready,” Sam said quietly. 

“I just need a couple things, then you can drop me at a hotel or something,” Steve said. He looked over at Sam.

“Nope, that's not going to work for me.” Sam shook his head slowly. “I've got a spare room, you've even seen it. It wasn't that bad was it? You're coming home with me. We're going to eat. We're going to sleep. And then tomorrow, we'll figure out a plan.”

Steve had to smile, he couldn't help it. “I outrank you, you know.”

“Yeah, Captain America does probably does outrank a PJ, even one with FALCON. But right now I'm just Sam talking to my friend Steve, and my friend Steve is going to listen to me, because he knows I'm right, doesn't he?”

“Steve's friend Sam is a little bossy,” Steve said.

“Don't worry, Steve will get used to it,” Sam reassured him, laughing. He gave Steve a light punch to the arm. “And stop talking about yourself in the third person, man. It's creepy.” Sam mouthed an 'ow' and shook out his hand like he had hurt it.

Steve was still smiling when they finally got out of the car and crossed the street to his building, Sam just a couple steps behind him to his right. He made his way up the stairs to his apartment but Sam stayed in the lobby, said that he would keep on eye on things from down there. 

It was a nice feeling, having someone he trusted at his back again. Someone that was there for him, not because he was Captain America, not because it was their job. He trusted Natasha on missions, but not unconditionally. He was still surprised at how easily he had trusted Sam. He felt more comfortable around Sam than anyone he had met since the ice, the first person he had felt like he could just be himself with in a long, long time.

Steve walked around his apartment. It was like looking at the life of someone he didn't know anymore. He'd lived there over a year, but it had never been his home. SHIELD had furnished it for him and he hadn't cared enough to replace any of it. He wasn't sure he had had a home since... well, since Bucky had left for the war probably. The little apartment they had shared hadn't felt like home once Bucky was gone. 

He grabbed a duffel out of the bedroom closet and filled it with clothes and his Dopp kit. In the living room, he filled a box with the old records he had found in the little shops that Natasha had called 'hipster' and another box with electronics -- his Avengers StarkPhone, his SHIELD phone, a StarkPad -- and all of his drawing paper and pencils. He went into the kitchen for the delicate floral teacup that had reminded him of the one his ma had used. He had seen in an antique shop window and had bought on an impulse. He wrapped it in a towel and nestled the bundle carefully in the box. 

Steve threw the duffel over his shoulder and balanced the record player on top of the boxes. There was nothing else he needed from here. 

He took one last look around the apartment, feeling like he was closing another chapter of his life, then went back down to Sam waited. Sam looked relaxed and easy, thumbs tucked into his front pockets as he leaned against the wall by the door but there was an edge to Sam's posture that Steve recognized. No matter how relaxed Sam might look, he was clearly still taking everything in and ready for anything. Sam straightened up and reached to open the door when Steve got to the lobby.

Steve followed Sam back to car. Natasha had tossed its keys to Sam when Steve had been released from the hospital. She had told Sam that it was compensation from SHIELD for his car that had gotten destroyed and Sam had accepted that easily enough. Steve didn't dare ask where she had really gotten it from, some things he was better off not knowing.

Sam pressed the button on the key to open the trunk, but instead a small panel slid to the side. Sam looked at Steve with one eyebrow raised. “Should we be running?”

“That's a SHIELD security thing, a thumbprint scanner,” Steve said.

Sam pressed his thumb to the panel and the trunk opened. Sam let out a low whistle. “I think I'm a little in love with your girlfriend, Cap,” he said.

“She's not my girlfriend.” Steve recognized the bag for his shield and under that, the one for his uniform, surrounded by what looked like half an armory. “I don't have a girlfriend.” 

“Yeah, me neither. Boyfriend?” Sam shook his head and waved away the question. “Nah, never mind. C'mon, food next. Steaks okay?” Sam closed the trunk and moved around to the side of the car.

Steve tried to catch Sam's eye. He was pretty sure that Sam had been flirting with him that morning they met running. Well, he thought maybe Sam had been. Steve knew he had been flirting when he had gone to meet Sam at work, or trying to anyway. It turned out that he wasn't much better at that with men than he was with women. Sam just opened the passenger door for him and helped him put his bag and boxes in the back seat of the car.

Sam's house was in a older, quiet neighborhood just outside the city. Sam had a grill on the small patio behind his house, so while Steve carried everything in from the car, Sam went out to start it. They met back in the kitchen and worked quietly together getting dinner ready. Sam showed him where things were and gave him the job of chopping vegetables. 

Steve didn't feel like talking, wasn't sure what to say. Sam seemed content enough to hum along with the music coming from his iPod, moving smoothly with the music as he seasoned the steaks and Steve chopped carrots and cucumbers.

At first Steve thought it was just because they were both pretty big guys in a small kitchen, but Sam brushed against Steve again and again. A hand on Steve's arm as he reach around him for a spatula out of the stoneware jar on the counter, shoulders bumping when they worked at the same counter. It happened often enough that Steve was sure it wasn't on accident, no matter how small the kitchen was. It was a little annoying that Sam was acting like he was some skittish wild animal needed to be tamed. He didn't need to be handled. 

It helped, though it hurt Steve's pride to admit it. With each touch, Steve could feel his body relaxing, each individual muscle loosening up for the first time since he had seen Project Insight, each breath deeper and easier than the one before. He hadn't even realized how tightly he had been holding himself until Sam eased him out of it.

They ate out on the deck under the stars, the table lit by the soft glow from the kitchen window and a full moon that hung low in the sky. The steaks were good and Steve was reaching for thirds almost before he realized it. Sam just smiled and slid the platter of steaks closer to Steve. A tabby cat named Bob that Sam said belonged to the neighbor joined them, drawn by the scent of the grilling steaks. Steve smiled at Sam first shooing the cat away, then feeding it little bits of steak when he thought Steve wasn’t looking. 

When Steve was finally done eating and sat back from the table, the cat jumped up into his lap and demanded to be pet. Steve ran his hand over the cat's head and down its back and was rewarded with a purr. Before the war, there had been a scruffy alley cat that hung around his apartment because Steve would sometimes feed it scraps. Bucky had always yelled at him for wasting his sometimes limited food on an animal.

He started to get up when Sam did, to help him clean up. Sam pressed him back into the chair, his hand warm on Steve's shoulder. Sam stayed there for a moment, his fingers wrapping over Steve's shoulder, gripping lightly. It felt like both a benediction and a promise. With a full stomach and a lap full of warm purring cat, the soft noises of Sam washing dishes and cleaning up the kitchen, he could feel his eyes start to droop. Steve was pretty sure this was the most relaxed he had been since before he left Brooklyn.

* * *

He stared at the images of James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes in the Howling Commandos exhibit at the museum. The man that was his mission had called him that, had called him Bucky like he knew him. He felt like he might have known the man, even though he wasn't Bucky. The voice from the speaker on the wall said that Sergeant Barnes had died, so obviously the man had been wrong.

He looked at the other faces in the exhibit. 

The man that was his mission looked like Captain America, looked like Steve Rogers. That couldn't be possible. Mr. Pierce had told him that he was doing good things, that his mission would save the world. The sign said that Captain America had saved the world a long time ago, that Steve Rogers was a hero. If Captain America saved the world, and his mission was to save the world, then the man that was his mission must not be Captain America.

He must be wrong, the man that was his mission was wrong. He was not this Bucky that the man that was his mission thought he was, and the man that was his mission was not Captain America.

He left the museum and headed for the nearest base that he could remember.

* * *

When Sam was seven, he spent the summer with his aunt and uncle in the country because his mom had to work and his dad had a new job that meant he was out of town on business a lot. He rode his bike up and down the long dusty country roads and one day, he found a sparrow along the side of the road. The little bird was hurt and couldn't fly, so he wrapped it up carefully in his shirt and took it home. His aunt helped him clean the bird up and put a splint on its broken wing. His uncle helped him build a box that they filled with soft grasses from the field out back for the bird to sleep in.

Sam named the little bird Sky, because it belonged in the sky. He hunted for little bugs and brought home as many different kinds of seeds as he could find to tempt Sky to eat. At first, the bird just pecked at his hand and it hurt. His uncle laughed at Sam and told the bird it shouldn't bite the hand that feeds it. Sam didn't understand why the bird would bite him when he just wanted to help it, so he just kept trying.

Eventually, Sky started eating and got stronger. The broken wing healed slowly and sometimes Sam would take the splint off and help Sky stretch the wing before carefully re-wrapping it. Sky started to hop onto Sam's wrist, then up his arm to perch on his shoulder. Sam would take Sky for walks outside, and sometimes he would lie in the grass with Sky on his chest and they would both stare up at the clear blue summer sky. He figured Sky and him were imagining the same thing, Sky's good wing opening and closing as if he was remembering what it was like to fly.

It was almost the end of summer, almost time for Sam to go back home to the city, before Sky was finally able to fly again. They practiced in the house first. Sam held Sky up as high as he could over his bed, and Sky jumped and flapped his wings on his way down to landing on the soft blankets. One day, Sky was able to fly around his room before landing, and his aunt said it was time to let Sky go. With Sky perched on his shoulder, Sam walked to near where he had found him. He put his hand up for Sky to stand on and then tossed him up into the air. 

He held his breath for the second or two it took Sky to remember that he could fly, and then Sky was gone.

* * *

He stood outside the last base he remembered. He needed information, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't supposed to be here. He slipped between the guards easily enough. Mr. Pierce would not be happy with how lax the security was at this base, but that wasn't his mission.

He needed his mission parameters. There were so many different things, things that didn't make sense, in his mind right now. He wasn't sure he was remembering them right, was sure that some of the things he was remembering were wrong. He looked for one of the computers. They had given him a password so that he could access the network when he needed to for missions.

He entered his password into the computer he found in an empty office, but an error message came up. He tried again. This number he knew, it was a number that he had known for a very long time.

Access denied.

He looked around the offices. There were some filing cabinets along the wall, maybe one of those would have his mission details.

He found a file for his last mission, codename Broken Eagle, and a file with his code number on it, 35-276-909. He had never seen his file before. He didn't feel safe here at this base, so he slid both of the files in his jacket and left the same way he had entered.

He didn't look at the room with the chair as he passed it.

 

* * *

In the morning, Steve woke up to the smell of coffee and bacon. Sunlight poked through and around the blue curtains that hung over the room's one window. Steve checked the clock on the nightstand, it was after 7am. He usually would have been for a run and back by now. He should probably admit to Sam that he had been right about needing a good meal and a good night's sleep. Steve stretched long and slow, his joints unusually stiff this morning. His body didn't feel like this very often anymore, but the accelerated healing of gun shot wounds took a toll. He absently ran his fingers over a broken rib that was still healing, testing the edges of the pain.

He looked up at a light knock on the door frame. Sam stood in the doorway, his eyes lingering on Steve's bare chest before moving up again. Sam cleared his throat. “Breakfast's ready,” he said. “Super-soldier serum gives you super-bedhead too, I see.” 

Steve followed Sam back to the kitchen as he tried to finger-comb his hair back down. Bucky's file sat on the far corner of the table, with a folded up paper map of the US and a couple pens. Sam noticed Steve looking at the file. “I didn't read it,” Sam said as he grabbed the plates filled with bacon and eggs and pulled another plate full of pancakes from where it had been warming in the oven.

“You can, if you want. It's mostly in Russian,” Steve said. “There are some locations mentioned that we should probably check out.”

While he ate, Steve opened up the map and started circling cities and towns. HYDRA had had a surprising number of bases within a days drive of DC, all up and down the east coast. There weren't as many throughout the mid-west, and then another cluster on the west coast. He used a different colored pen for some of them. He could see Sam watching him with a curious look on his face. 

“When did you have time to get that much detail from that file?” Sam asked. “I've been with you since you got it.”

“I have a really good memory. It's not quite photographic, but it's pretty close.” Steve shrugged, it was really that big of a deal. “Helps with languages too.” 

Steve refolded the map. “The red ones are where Bucky's actually been for a mission. We should probably check those first. The blue ones are other HYDRA bases that were mentioned.”

“That must come in handy,” Sam said.

“I had that before. The serum made it a little better, but I could always draw from memory. Bucky used to...” Steve trailed off. Sam was the first person since Peggy that he felt like he could talk to about Bucky, that would understand. 

“It's okay, you know,” Sam said, with a look of understanding on his face. It was better than the pity Steve usually got whenever he mentioned anything about his previous life. “It's okay to talk about him. I'd like to hear more about him, if you want to tell me.”

Steve looked down at his plate, pushed the last of his eggs to one side with his fork. “When we were in the war, Bucky used to ask me to draw things from home. People or places we both knew. I think sometimes he did it just to distract me. It was nice to remember that we hadn't always been at war.”

Sam nodded. “You have to remember what you're fighting for. Riley had a little notebook he filled with pictures. Some were of his family, but some he had cut out of magazines or newspapers. Man, he missed some of the weirdest things.” Sam laughed.

After breakfast, Steve checked his phones. The SHIELD phone had no messages, which wasn't surprising, same for his StarkPhone. His personal phone had a text from Natasha, just a time and an address about an hour away. They could just make it if they left now. He showed it to Sam. It was as good of a place to start as any.

Sam drove past the address and parked the car a couple blocks away. Steve wasn't sure was he expected to find at the address Natasha had given him, which turned out to be a 50's theme diner, complete with turquoise vinyl seats and chrome trim, but it certainly wasn't Agent Coulson. 

Steve went in first and made his way over to the corner booth that Agent Coulson was sitting in. “Agent Coulson?” he asked.

“Director, actually,” Coulson said. “I've recently been appointed Director of SHIELD. Thank you for coming.”

“Director Coulson, I'm glad to see you're...” Steve wasn't sure how to say it, “feeling better? You and Director Fury seem to have a lot in common,” Steve said.

Sam came in a few minutes after Steve and sat on one of the round pedestal stools at the counter. Steve watched him out of the corner of his eye as Sam asked the waitress about the specials. The waitress smiled and winked at Sam before heading back into the kitchen.

“Yes, well. Coming back from the presumed dead seems to be going around lately,” Coulson said. “I'd like to offer you what limited assistance I could provide in your search for Sergeant Barnes.”

Steve sat across from Coulson. “In return for?” he asked. He had liked Coulson, what little he knew of him, and had been saddened his apparently temporary death, but there had to be a catch. It didn't help that he felt at a disadvantage with his back to the room, but he could still see Sam to his right and trusted Sam to have his back. Sam had gotten a slice of pie and a cup of coffee and the waitress was leaning on the counter laughing with him.

Steve found himself so distracted by Sam flirting with someone else that he only half listened to Director Coulson's speech outlining his efforts to rebuild SHIELD.

“I would be glad to help, Director Coulson,” Steve said once the waitress had finally left Sam to wait on another customer. “On one condition - none of Fury's 'compartmentalizing.' I'm not working like that again. And my first priority is getting Bucky back.”

“I know, and I think that we may have overlapping objectives at this point. I think we should be able to share information to facilitate both finding your friend and eliminating the remains of HYDRA. I also brought something with me, as a show of good faith, that can help you in your mission. Or at least that can help Mr. Wilson help you.” Coulson tipped his head towards where Sam was sitting. Steve figured he shouldn't be surprised that Coulson knew who Sam was.

Steve signaled Sam to join them. Sam brought a slice of apple pie and a glass of milk with him that he set on the table in front of Steve, before sliding into the booth next to him. The booth was barely big enough for Steve, much less the both of them, but Steve didn't mind. 

“Mr. Wilson,” Phil started.

“Sam, please. Mr. Wilson is my father.”

“Sam, it's an honor to meet you. SHIELD kept an eye of a lot of projects, including yours. I found several crates belonging to the EXO-7 project at one of our bases. I think it would be best for all concerned if I were to turn those over to you for safe keeping.”

Steve felt Sam still next to him. “You have my wings?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Phil said. “And they are yours, no strings attached. SHIELD would of course be grateful for your assistance in the future but that would be your decision.”

“I go where he goes,” Sam said, gesturing towards Steve. “But, thank you.”

* * *

He read the mission file. The man on the bridge was his target. His mission was to eliminate the target. He had only been given a photo of the target before, but this file had names. The man on the bridge was Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers was Captain America. 

_What happened to you?_

_I joined the Army._

His mission was to eliminate Captain America.

He read the file with his number on it. There were other numbers on the file, each made with a different pen and a different style of hand-writing, each crossed out and replaced the next number until finally his number, 35-276-909, was the only number left. 

The file with his number on it had a name, too. He didn't remember having been given a name. He didn't remember having been called anything but the asset.

The name in the file with his number on it was James Barnes.

The file with his number on it had a picture of James Barnes. He stood on cold, cracked tile in the small, dirty motel bathroom and looked at his face, the asset's face, in the mirror, and looked at the picture of James B. Barnes. 

He pulled his hair back with his right hand and looked at the picture again. 

He punched the mirror with his flesh and blood hand, Bucky's hand. Shattered glass fell to the sink and Bucky's hand bled. He punched the mirror again, through the mirror, through the wall, with his metal hand, the asset's hand. The asset's hand didn't bleed.

He was the Winter Soldier, he was not Bucky Barnes. His mission was to eliminate Captain America.

* * *

When Sam was 15, he fell in love for the first time. He didn't realize it at first, because John was his best friend, had been his best friend since grade school. They met in the third grade and bonded over baseball and Captain America trading cards.

John lived two blocks away from Sam, on the other side of the park. They played in the sandbox and on the swings when they were younger, staging elaborate missions based on the Captain America comics Sam's mom had bought him when she could. When they got older, they shared their first cigarette (Sam had coughed and choked, eyes watering, and John had laughed at him until he tried it and then it was Sam's turn to laugh) and their first beer (which was more successful than the smoking experiment, but Sam didn't understand why any one would voluntarily drink something that tasted so bad).

Sam and John were inseparable. They had the same classes and played the same sports. John was better at history and science but Sam was better at English and math, so they would study together, helping each other, in the library at school or in Sam's room. Instead of playing in the park, they would run laps or practice the drills that the coaches had taught them.

John had been Sam's first kiss too, in that same park. Sam couldn't tell who was more surprised, him or John. They didn't talk to each other again for a week, long enough that Sam's mom noticed and asked Sam if they had had a fight. Sam couldn't lie to his mom and told her what had happened. It was the most scared Sam had ever been in his life. Sam's mom just said 'oh, honey, I love you no matter what, don't you ever forget that.'

Sam finally found John again, after a baseball game at the park. It was awkward and uncomfortable and then John pushed him and he shoved John back, and then it was the same as it had always been. They studied, and they practiced, and sometimes they kissed. It was the scariest and the best thing ever, Sam thought.

It was barely a month later that John's dad got transferred to an office in another state. Sam and John spent their last night together, playing catch and kissing in the park. The next morning, they watched John's house get emptied into a moving van, and then John was gone.

* * *

He went back to the base. This time he was not careful and the guards that challenged him were eliminated.

He went back to the office where he had found the files. He tried his number on the computer again, and was denied access. He went through all of the file cabinets, looking for anything that might give him more information. He threw each file that did not have the information he was looking for over his shoulder, until he was surrounded by drifts of white paper. 

He searched the rest of the base room by room. He flipped over desks and tables and punched holes in the walls, looking for secret compartments that might have the answers he was looking for. He found one of the scientists that he remembered from the room with the chair. He held the scientist against the wall with his metal hand around the scientist's throat, crushing the bow tie that the scientist wore, and he asked the scientist questions. The scientist did not answer his questions and was eliminated. None of the scientists he found would answer his questions so they were eliminated, until there was no one left at the base but him.

He did not go into the room with the chair.

The perimeter alarm sounded. He went to the control room and watched the monitors. He did not recognize the average looking man in a suit and a tac vest that led the team entering the base. 

He went to the armory.

* * *

Steve decided they should start at the bases closest to DC before heading north. There were several that were less than a four hour drive. He didn't know what resources Bucky would have now that HYDRA was in pieces. Maybe they would be lucky and could find him close to DC. If not, Steve hoped that Bucky would head towards the last home either of them had known, NYC. 

Steve and Sam quickly settled into a routine, as easily and as smoothly as if they had worked together for years. Each morning, they packed up their supplies and extra clothes and anything they could think of that they might need, not knowing what they might find. Supplies included an oversized bag of snacks; no road trip was complete without junk food, Sam told him. Steve liked the trail mix but left the strawberry Twizzlers for Sam.

They spent a lot of hours in the car. In the mornings, Steve was anxious to get to the next base, maybe this was the one where they would find Bucky. Sam told Steve stories about his family and growing up to try to distract him. The love Sam had for his family was obvious in the stories he would tell about them. 

“My grandad used to tell me the story about how he met you once,” Sam said one morning. It was early, the eastern horizon just a sliver of pale orange.

“Was he a serviceman?” Steve asked. He had fought alongside a lot of men in the war, he never found out the name of most of them. One of the all-black regiments had joined him and the Howling Commandos on a few of their missions.

“No. Well, he was, but he met you before that. It was at one of the shows before you went to Europe. He took my grandma to the theater for their first date.”

“It must have worked, since they got married.”

“Oh, it did. Seventy years of marriage, they passed away within a week of each other a few years back. They saw a lot of changes in the world. Some good, some bad. What impressed my grandad about you was that you came around to the Colored entrance to meet with those folks too. Most entertainers didn't.”

“I didn't think it was fair that we were asking the same sacrifices of everyone but not treating everyone the same. I'm sorry I couldn't do more,” Steve said.

“You do understand that no matter how much things have changed, even if I can go in the same door as you now, there's a lot of things that are still the same, right?” Sam asked, taking his eyes of the road to look at Steve for a second. 

Steve nodded, “I know. Fury was one of the first people I met here, so I thought maybe things had changed. But they haven't, not really, not deep down where it really matters. We're fighting battles with aliens, but we're still treating other humans like the enemy.”

The afternoons were quieter as they drove back to Sam's house after finding only one deserted base after another. Steve tried, but it was getting harder to hide his disappointment each day as they found nothing but a few scattered pieces of broken furniture and thick layers of dust. There were no computers, no paper files, not even a stray post-it note. Steve had known that it wasn't going to be easy to find Bucky, especially if he didn't want to be found, but he had hoped. Sam just turned the radio on, saying that Steve really needed to work on his music history. 

After the fourth empty base, on a bright summer day that was at odds with Steve's gloomy mood, Sam turned off the main road into a small state park. “I need to test my gear,” Sam said as he parked in the empty lot. “I want to make sure that everything is okay with it before we need it.”

Steve was pretty sure Sam was making an excuse to give him some downtime, but a break would be nice.

Steve helped Sam put on the pack, helped him adjust and tighten the straps. It was heavier than Steve expected, which explained why Sam's shoulders and back were so strong. Sam inhaled sharply when the backs of Steve's fingers brushed again the bare skin of Sam's stomach where his shirt had gotten caught up under one of the straps. 

Steve looked up at Sam from where he had been working in the end of one of the straps. 

Sam stared at him for a moment, then seemed to shake himself loose. “C'mon, Cap. Grab your shield and meet me over in that clearing.” Sam pointed to the north. Sam took a few running steps while he unfolded the wings and then launched himself into the air with a whoop of laughter.

Steve settled his shield on his back and headed towards the clearing, watching Sam twist and spiral around in the sky above him.

“On your left,” Sam called as he came around behind Steve.

“Oh look at that, on your left again,” Sam laughed.

Steve started running, trying to dodge Sam's flybys, like they were playing a three dimensional game of tag.

“Hey, I'm going to swing around, pick up some speed. When I come back, let's see if I can lift you up,” Sam called on his next pass over Steve.

They tried a couple different ways for Sam to pick up Steve. Reaching out to clasp hands-to-wrists would work in a pinch but was hard on Sam's shoulder and threw off Sam's balance too much to use for anything except an emergency. Sam scooping up Steve in a bear hug, Sam's arms under Steve's arms and around his chest, was less stress on Sam's body and was more balanced for longer term, especially when Steve jumped up to meet him.

They tried a third time, but either Sam misjudged his speed or Steve hesitated just a split second. Sam slammed into Steve and they went tumbling to the ground. Sam pulled his wings in and Steve curled a protective arm around Sam's head until they rolled to a stop with Sam sprawled on top of Steve. Steve asked Sam if he was okay, where he was hurt, worried because Sam had his head tucked into Steve's chest and was shaking. It wasn't until Sam finally lifted his head that Steve realized that Sam was laughing.

Steve brushed some leaves off of Sam's face, then left his hand there, fingers cupping Sam's jaw as he brushed his thumb over Sam's cheek. He had a sudden desire to draw Sam, to capture that beautiful smile that he couldn't resist touching. Sam's laughter died off and it was suddenly quiet. 

Steve's breath caught as Sam reached to push his goggles up and off. Sam leaned forward, his eyes dark and solemn, his hands coming up to frame Steve's face. Sam hesitated and Steve leaned up the rest of the way.

The kiss was hesitant and gentle in a way that Steve hadn't expected. During the war, he had a few encounters with men, even Bucky a couple of times. But those had always been about sex and fear and relief, and there had never been any kissing. This, here and now with Sam, was nothing like that at all.

He shifted a little under Sam's weight, the smell of sun-warm crushed grass surrounding them. Steve couldn't figure out where to put his hands; the wing pack covered most of Sam's back. He settled with leaving one hand cupping the back of Sam's head and gripped Sam's hip with the other.

Steve thought he could have stayed there forever, kissing Sam. It felt so good, Sam's weight pressing down on him, grounding him. It was like they had been building towards this since their very first meeting when Steve had pushed himself even harder than usual on his morning run, just to pass the man that had caught his attention again and again. Then they had talked and Steve had immediately felt more comfortable with Sam than he had with anyone in a long, long time.

Sam pulled back and rested his forehead against Steve's. “Steve, I'm sorry.” Sam closed his eyes and Steve waited for the rejection he had half expected. “But I can't do this.” Sam pulled his wings in tight and slid to his knees next to Steve. Sam laughed, a mean laugh clearly directed at himself. “It's not you, it's me.” 

Sam slowly stood up and brushed himself off. He held a hand out to help Steve up. “Hey, lets try that again, this time with a little more finesse. I've got a reputation to keep up, you know,” he joked weakly.

They practiced some more but it wasn't the same. Sam face was closed, harder to read, and his smiles were a little slower, didn't quite reach all the way to his eyes. Steve was hesitant as he reached out for Sam, not entirely sure of where the boundaries were now. Sure, Steve had thought about having sex with Sam. He was a charming and attractive man and had a confidence about himself that was hard to resist. But Steve hadn't thought about kissing Sam before this afternoon. Now it was all he could think about.

As they flew around, slowly getting comfortable with each other again, Steve thought about how before the serum, his vertigo had been too bad to even enjoy the rides at Coney Island. Now heights were no problem at all, sometimes he didn't even need to use a parachute, as long as he where he was going to land. He thought it would be fun for Sam to let him go, to see what it would be like to drop from Sam to the ground. It might even be fun enough to break Sam out of his somber mood. Steve told Sam his idea and Sam let him go just a few feet off the ground. Steve rolled over his shield as he hit the ground, letting it absorb the impact. Steve wanted to try again from higher up. He urged Sam higher and higher, wanting the fall to last longer.

Sam let go of him and Steve spread his arms and dove towards the ground. The extra air resistance of the shield on his arm pulled him to the right and he spiraled down in big lazy loops like a fall leaf. He was planning his landing when Sam grabbed him just as he was getting ready to tuck and roll. 

Sam let Steve go as soon as they touched ground. He snapped the wings closed and walked away from Steve. Sam's shoulders were hunched in as far as the wing pack would allow and his hands were curled into tight fists at his side, skin stretched tight across his knuckles.

Steve wasn't sure what had just happened. He walked up behind Sam, reached to touch his shoulder. “Sam?” he asked softly.

“Don't touch me!” Sam said as he flinched away from Steve.

“Okay.” Steve took a step back to give Sam space. He waited a few minutes. “What can I do?”

“We are never doing that dropping thing again.”

Sam walked away from Steve again, still without looking at him. With a running jump, he took to the air again.

Steve raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he watched Sam circle around the sky, higher and higher until he looked like nothing more than a bird against the clear blue sky. He hadn't thought about Riley getting shot down in front of Sam when he had suggested that Sam drop him. Sam always seemed so together and comfortable with where he was in his life that sometimes Steve forgot that Sam had his own ghosts. Steve knew what it was like to watch someone you cared about fall away from you and knew how it felt to not have been able to save them. He put his shield on his back and started walking back to where they had left the car.

Steve was almost to the car when Sam landed lightly in front of him. “Hey, that file of yours have anything a couple miles west from here?”

Steve thought for a minute, pulling up a mental image of the map he had plotted a few days ago. “No, I don't think so. Why?”

“There's something over that way, looks like your friend Coulson is already there.”

“We could go see if he needs any help?” Steve suggested. Coulson was probably searching HYDRA bases. Even if it wasn't one that had been mentioned in Bucky's file, there still might be information there that could help track him down.

“Car or wings?” Sam asked.

Steve hesitated. Flying would be faster, but he still wasn't entirely sure how Sam would feel about that. “Wings would be faster, if you're okay with that?”

“I'm okay with that,” Sam said.

Steve studied him, trying to make sure Sam really was okay with flying him over to where Coulson was.

“I can fly you wherever you want to go,” Sam said shortly. “I'm just not dropping you, got it?”

“Yeah, got it.”

As they got closer what looked like a large hunting lodge, Steve could hear gunfire. He pointed a safe landing spot just to the left of the lodge for Sam drop him off. Sam let him go a couple of feet off the ground.

They approached the rear of the building carefully, trying to figure out where the sporadic gunfire was coming from. Steve cleared the entrance and Sam followed behind him. They went cautiously towards an open trap door in the middle of the kitchen floor. That led to a basement that hid a full underground base, much larger than the building above, behind a wine cellar.

They worked their way down the long hallway, clearing one room at a time. All they found were a few bodies, all HYDRA guards or scientists. Steve peeked cautiously around the door of the last room as Sam covered him. Bucky had Coulson and his team pinned behind a makeshift barrier of tables in what must have been a cafeteria when the base was active.

“Bucky!” Steve shouted.

Bucky turned and opened fire on Steve. Steve jumped back out of the open doorway just as Sam swung into it from the other side, gun in his hand to fire back at Bucky. Steve swung his shield to deflect the knife that Bucky threw towards Sam, but he wasn't fast enough. The knife sliced just under the protective shoulder caps of Sam's wing pack. Sam fell back with a grunt. Steve pulled him back to a room away and Bucky turned his attention back to Coulson and his team.

Sam grimaced as he reached for the bandages in his pack. Steve tore Sam's shirt open to get a better look at the wound. The small knife had gone deep into the flesh of Sam's shoulder. “This is going to hurt,” Steve warned Sam as he pressed one of the bandages tight to Sam's shoulder.

“I know,” Sam said. “Just do it fast.” Sam held onto Steve's other arm, gripping tight enough to hurt when Steve pulled the knife out.

“I'm fine,” Sam said, his breath coming quick. “It's just a flesh wound,” he laughed weakly, flinching as Steve tightened the bandages over the wound. “That's a movie, we should watch that sometime.”

“Sam...” Steve was torn between staying with Sam and going back after Bucky.

“Go, I'll be fine. You're his target, not me. He won't bother me if I'm not standing between you and him.”

After making sure Sam was settled into a corner that he could defend himself from with only one arm, Steve went back to the cafeteria. With Bucky's attention back on Coulson, Steve was able to get behind him. He launched himself across the room and tackled Bucky around the waist. His momentum carried both of them through a table and to the floor with a heavy crash. 

Bucky twisted free and pinned Steve to the floor with his flesh hand around Steve's throat. Bucky pulled his metal arm back to punch. Steve had been there before and braced himself for the blow. He wasn't going to fight Bucky now. He had had to before, on the helicarrier, when millions of lives had been at stake.

Steve looked over at Coulson, silently pleading for him to stay back and let him do this. Coulson hesitated, and then nodded. Coulson pulled his agents back to the edge of the room where they would be out of the way but ready if needed. 

Steve tried to talk to Bucky. “You're my friend, you're Bucky,” he kept repeating. Steve threw his shield to the side and held his arms slightly out to the side, showed Bucky his empty hands. “I'm not fighting you, Bucky.”

Bucky stared at him for what seemed like an eternity. “You're my mission,” he finally said as he punched Steve.

Steve let Bucky hit him without even trying to defend himself. “You know me,” he said. “Remember when we were kids and you used to protect me?”

“You're my mission,” Bucky insisted. He pulled a knife and held it to Steve's throat. 

The knife was sharp and Steve could already feel a small trickle of blood run down his neck. He laid still and said, “No, I'm your friend.”

Steve noticed the movement in the doorway at the same time Bucky did. Bucky glanced back at Steve and then went after Sam. Sam fired a couple shots at Bucky, but Bucky grabbed Steve's shield to deflect them and then flung the shield at Sam. Sam dropped to the floor and the shield embedded into the wall.

Steve jumped on Bucky's back before he could get to where Sam laid on the floor clutching his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around Bucky's neck. He and Bucky fell to the floor and wrestled. Steve had a slight advantage since Bucky's metal arm was still sparking uselessly at his side.

“Bucky, stop!” Steve yelled. Bucky froze and Steve let him go. They both scrambled to their feet, then Steve waited to see what Bucky would do next. They stared at each other for a moment, but before Bucky could make his move, one of Coulson's agents tossed something small and shiny towards Bucky.

* * *

He got knocked down, dazed, by an explosion to his left. He laid on the ground, stunned. He'd never failed a mission before. He waited for them to kill him.

He looked up. His target was standing over him, standing between him and the ones he thought would kill him. For the first time, he truly believed that his target was Captain America. His target stood tall and proud, larger than life from where he laid on the ground at his feet.

His target was shouting, telling the others to stand-down. His target turned back towards him, offered him a hand. “Bucky,” he said.

“No, I'm not Bucky. I can't be Bucky.”

“You are, you're James Buchanan Barnes, 35-276-909. You're my best friend. I can help you. Let me help you, Bucky.”

_I thought you were dead._

_I thought you were smaller._

“No.” He scrambled back, away from his target, away from Captain America, away from Steve Rogers.

* * *

When Sam was 23, he joined the Air Force. There he fell in love for the second and third times. He wasn't sure if he could separate his love for flying from his love for Riley if he had to, they were so intertwined in his mind.

The wings came first. After 18 months of pararescue training, he had been offered a chance at a program called EXO-7. Flying with the wings was like nothing Sam had ever experienced before. It was freedom, it was the chance to rescue people that there was no other way to get to, and it was where Sam met Riley.

Riley was from Texas, with a slow drawl, a cocky grin, and a quick temper. Together they jumped out of helicopters and airplanes and off of buildings and mountains, into deserts and war-ravaged cities, and together they saved hundreds of lives.

In some dusty no-name town in the middle of some country Sam didn't even remember the name of, he just remembered it was hot and dry and Riley was ready to blow off some steam because they had lost a couple of their rescues that day. Riley was still grinning but now it was a mean grin. Riley goaded some of the locals into a fight, and Sam backed him up, just like he always did. After the fight had been broken up, Riley was still full of restless energy and he kissed Sam, pushed him up against the crumbling brick wall of the bar and kissed him with blood still in his mouth.

Just before their second tour was up, when they had started to carefully tiptoe around talking about what they might do when they got back home, an RPG knocked Riley out of a cold dark sky. Sam didn't even have a chance to go after him before Riley was gone.

* * *

He found a safe place to hide and recover. He couldn't believe he was still alive. His target had stood over him, had stood with his back to him and had protected him from the others.

It didn't make sense.

His metal arm rested motionless on the table in front of him. He prioritized his needs. He needed food, he needed to get his arm reset, he needed... he needed to understand why his target had saved him from the others.

He pulled his tablet from his bed, along with the files, his file and his mission file. He read them both again. He turned on the tablet and entered his name and his target's name into the search bar.

There were millions of results. He watched clips of a frail but brave Steve Rogers and of a strong and brave Captain America. He watched grainy footage of a man that he was beginning to believe that he had been and Captain America from a war seventy years in the past.

He watched and listened to the story of his life and death as he fixed his arm.

* * *

Steve stood and watched Bucky leave. Sam limped up behind him.

“This is why,” Sam said.

“What?” Steve turned to look at Sam.

“This is why I can't start something with you. I only see two ways for this to go and neither one is going to be good for me. One, you end up letting the Winter Soldier-”

“His name is Bucky,” Steve interrupted.

“No, Steve. Right now, he isn't your friend Bucky. He's the Winter Soldier on a mission. And if you don't understand that, he's going to kill you. You're going to let him kill you, because you'd rather die than lose him again. Either that or you manage to pull another miracle out of your ass and you save him. Have you even thought about what it would happen if you do manage to rescue him? What he's been through is not something you can just walk away from.”

“I know, but I need to help him. He would do it for me,” Steve said stubbornly. He wasn't going to budge on this. He didn't believe Bucky would kill him, he really didn't.

“The thing is, Steve, I'm gonna lose you either way,” Sam said sadly.

“Sam...” Steve wanted Bucky back more than anything, but at the same time, he didn't want to hurt Sam.

“Look, I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. That’s on me.” Sam tapped his chest. “I wasn't looking for something like this so I didn't see it coming. You're a good man, Steve, but I've got to take care of myself first.”

Sam stood in front of Steve and drew himself up as much as he could with blood dripping down his right shoulder. The adrenaline of the fight was starting to wear off and the skin around his eyes was drawing tighter as he began to feel the pain of his injuries. 

Sam looked Steve straight in the eyes and said, “But there's one more thing we need to get straight. I'm not going to stand by and watch you just let him kill you again either. I told you before, sometimes you can't save everyone, sometimes you just need to stop them before they destroy you and everything around you. If you can't do that yourself then I'll do it for you.” Sam laughed self-deprecatingly. “Well, try anyway.”

“He won't kill me, Sam. He's had the opportunity more than once, and he didn't do it. I know he's in there, Bucky's in there.” Steve was desperate for someone to believe him about this.

A discreet cough brought their attention back to their surroundings. “Director Coulson,” Steve said.

One of Coulson's agents came to Sam and started leading him away. Steve was tempted to follow them, he didn't want to let Sam out of his sight. The agent was telling Sam that they had a doctor and a full medical suite available on the Bus.

“Captain. I didn't expect to find you here,” Coulson said.

Steve turned back from where he had been watching Sam walk away. “We were in the area. Sam saw you from the sky. I didn't know there was a base here.”

“We've been searching for patterns in utility usage, particularly areas with unusual energy consumptions. The amount of electricity the lodge was using was significantly above what would have been reasonable.”

“Was Bucky already here when you got here?”

“I think so. Most of the damage had already been done by the time we got here. He seems to be looking for something.”

“This is the first active base we've seen. They've had time to clean up and go into hiding. Wait, the HYDRA agents were already dead when you got here?” Steve asked.

“Yes, it would seem that their asset has turned on them,” Coulson said.

Steve shared what little information he and Sam had found, mostly locations that Coulson didn't need to check. Coulson promised to let him know if he saw Bucky again and then took Steve to where Sam had been taken on the Bus. The knife wound on his shoulder had been stitched closed and he had been given a clean shirt.

It was late by the time they finally made it back to Sam's house. Sam had reluctantly taken the pain meds Coulson's doctor had given him but was still holding his right arm tight to his body to keep from jostling his shoulder.

“Sorry, Cap. I'm going to be even slower for a while. You'll have to go without me,” Sam said as he slowly made his way into the house.

“Not worried about it. Couch or bed?” Steve asked.

“Let me get us something to eat, then I’ll go to bed.” Sam started to head towards the kitchen but Steve gently put a hand on Sam's left shoulder and steered him back towards the living room.

“Or you'll rest here on the couch and I'll get you something to eat. I can cook, you know.”

“Not a big fan of boiled dinners, thanks,” Sam joked, but clearly the pain meds were getting the better of him, his eyes were half closed and he was leaning pretty heavily into Steve.

“Sit down before you fall down,” Steve said. “And I can do more in the kitchen than boil water.”

Steve grabbed some pillows from Sam's bedroom to prop him up in the corner of the couch so that there was nothing pulling on either his shoulder or his ribs. He made sure Sam was comfortable with the TV remote and a bottle of water before going out to the kitchen to start something for dinner.

“Hey, does spaghetti count as a boiled dinner?” Steve called from the kitchen.

“Nobody likes a smart ass, Rogers!” Sam yelled back.

After they ate, Steve helped Sam to bed. Steve left a glass of water and Sam's pain meds on the nightstand, and told Sam to give a yell if he needed anything.

For the next couple of days, Steve took care of Sam. Sam slept most of the first day while Steve hovered, making sure he had everything he needed. Sam kept telling Steve that he was fine and that Steve should go look for Bucky.

Sam had a pretty extensive collection of old movies that they worked their way through on the second day. Steve unfolded the couch into a bed and piled it full of blankets and pillows to keep Sam warm and comfortable. 

On the third day, Sam was feeling a little better so Steve suggested they go for a walk. As they made their way slowly through Sam's neighborhood, Steve hung back as Sam chatted with a neighbor here and there, not wanting to be recognized. They watched a little league game at the park two blocks over and had terrible concession stand hot dogs for lunch.

By the fourth day, Sam was bored and cranky and snapped at Steve for hovering. Steve went for a run and then made a boiled corned beef and cabbage for dinner that night for revenge, but it just made Sam laugh. Steve still considered it a win, but gave Sam a bag of the strawberry Twizzlers he liked so much as a peace offering.

After dinner, Steve realized that Sam had been in the bathroom for a while. He waited a while longer, torn between respecting Sam's privacy and worried that something was wrong. Finally, Steve knocked on the door and asked if Sam was okay. 

“I can't lift my arm enough to shave,” Sam said.

"I can help you with that." Steve got out his straight razor and soap mug and shaving brush. Sam raised a questioning eyebrow at that. “Trust me” Steve said.

"With my life, sure. But you're not used to working with a face this good looking,” Sam joked. He hopped up to sit on the sink counter. “Don't you mess up what I've got going on here.”

Steve had helped Bucky and a few others of his men shave a couple times during the war. Sometimes there were injuries that weren't bad enough to leave the front lines, but that made even simple things like shaving difficult. It had never felt as intimate as it did with Sam, though. The bathroom was small and warm, still humid from Sam's shower earlier. 

Steve worked up a good lather with the shaving brush, then stood between where Sam's legs dangled off the counter. “Ready?” 

Sam nodded so Steve started brushing the lather onto Sam's face. Then he very carefully drew the razor down Sam's cheek, wiped it clean on the towel he had draped over his other arm. Sam sat perfectly still, barely breathing as Steve worked, only moving when Steve would nudge him one way or other to get a better angle.

When Steve was wiping away the last traces of shaving soap from under Sam's chin, Sam reached up and grabbed his wrist. “Why are you still here?” Sam asked. “You should be out there looking for him.”

“I don't know, Sam. Maybe because you can barely get yourself out of bed right now? Once you're healed, we'll go back to looking for him. Together.” Steve looked down. “If you still want to help?” 

“Steve, this is really none of my business, so you don't have to answer if you don't want to. Were you and Bucky... more than friends?”

“It's complicated, that's what everyone says these days, isn't it? It was hard, you know, after my Ma passed. There wasn't much work those days, not for someone like me. I did what I could, but I was sick a lot. Mrs. Barnes would usually send Bucky over with dinner for me a couple of times a week. If I was careful, I could make a couple of days out of what she sent.

“That first winter after Ma passed, it was really cold. I didn't think I would ever feel warm again and Bucky, he came over one night. I was so cold, but I couldn't afford to turn the heat on so I was in bed with all the blankets I had. I could hardly move except for shivering. He climbed into bed with me like it was nothing and he was so warm. It wasn't like, I don't know, we didn't have a “relationship” or anything. We slept together in the same bed, and sometimes during the war we, um, helped each other out, but we never kissed.”

“But he kept you warm?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, he kept me warm. I did the same for him after we got him back from Zola. He was different after that. He didn't tell me all that happened and I didn't ask him to, but at least I could be there for him, to keep him warm. That's all I want to do, Sam. He's cold. Bucky's cold, and I need to be able to help him get warm again.”

Steve hesitated, not sure if Sam wanted to hear this part or not. “But right now, what's most important to me is you getting better.”

Sam stared at him, his fingers tightening where he still held Steve's wrist. 

“Sam. Bucky's important to me and he always will be. You're important to me too, though. I can't promise you that I won't leave you. You know that I can't promise something like that. I can promise you that I won't leave you voluntarily.”

Sam tugged on Steve's wrist to pull him closer. “I mean this. If we do this, it's for keeps. Are you okay with that?”

Steve nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. Sam reached up with his other hand to pull Steve's head down until their foreheads were touching. “I need you to use words here, Steve. This is important.”

“Yes, Sam.” Steve wasn't sure who moved the last inches but it didn't matter. Sam's mouth was warm and wet on his and it was like coming home.

* * *

He watched his target, who wasn't his mission anymore. Steve had been his best friend in another life, not the life he had now, and he had made the decision to abort the mission.

He had a new mission now. He would eliminate those that had done this to him, the ones that had destroyed who he had been and had created the asset in Bucky's place.

He waited for Steve to be alone, which wasn't very often. He was almost always with the other man, but finally he found Steve walking alone one day. He followed Steve into an alley and remembered long ago having to follow Steve into alleys and empty lots to rescue him from the bullies that Steve couldn't keep himself from confronting, no matter how out-matched he was.

Steve stopped and turned to look where he kept himself hidden in the shadows. “I know you're there,” Steve said.

He stepped out into the fading evening light. “Hiya, punk,” he said.

“Bucky,” Steve whispered and took a step towards him. Bucky held up his hand to stop him, and Steve waited.

“I need to do this myself,” he said.

“The thing is, you don't have to, Bucky. Let me help,” Steve answered, and Bucky remembered when he had said that same thing to Steve.

“You already did,” Bucky said.

* * *

When Sam was 34, he met a superhero and learned that underneath the legend and the sparkly costume, Captain America was just a man that wanted to do the right thing. It amazed Sam that Steve still considered himself nothing special, just a boy from Brooklyn who didn't like bullies.

Sam didn't plan to fall in love again, he didn't even want to, but he had no defense against a man like Steve Rogers. Steve was a genuinely good person, and loyal, and occasionally infuriatingly bull-headed. Steve had a strong sense of right and wrong, and would never give up fighting for those who couldn't fight for themselves, not even brain-washed assassins that were trying to kill him.

Sam didn't plan to fall in love again, but the man that humbly accepted his help and then stayed when Sam couldn't even help himself had wormed his way into Sam's life until he couldn't imagine it any other way.

One day, Steve came home and told Sam that Bucky had found him, that they had talked. Sam looked Steve over for bruises even as he reached for the lock-box on the living room shelf where he kept a gun. Steve hugged Sam and Sam held him as Steve laughed and cried. He remembers now, Steve told him. Sam waited for Steve to tell him he was leaving but Steve stayed.

* * *

Sam had once asked him what made him happy. Steve still wasn't sure, but he had Sam and the time to build a real relationship for the first time in his life. Even though Bucky would never again be the Bucky Steve had grown up with, he wasn't the Winter Soldier any more either. He was working with Coulson to help rebuild SHIELD into what it had been meant to be. Sometimes Sam helped, and once even Bucky did. But as long as he had Sam and Bucky, Steve didn't think he needed much else to be happy.


End file.
